Misery
by Wolf126
Summary: Hermione realizes that she loves Harry, but it's a little too late. One-sided Harry/Hermione. Follows canon. One-shot.


_Character(s): Harry & Hermione._

_Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing. _Harry Potter_ belongs solely to J. K. Rowling and anything you see here that is recognizeable belongs to her. I.E. The quotes I've taken directly from _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_. I think you'll know what I mean._

_I know, I know. This isn't my best work, and this has probably been done before, but I just wanted to write about it and so here it is. If you haven't noticed by now, and if you've been following me, you know I've got a pretty good grasp of angst. I guess I just wanted to explore what Hermione is thinking when she thinks Harry is dead. I know Hermione is a little... obsessive in this fic, but that's because that's all she can think about in this one moment of misery._

_Constructive criticism is welcome. Please, no flames._

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**Misery**

**oOoOo**

A moment. That's all it takes. A single moment, and everything is lost. Gone. _Forever_.

It only takes a moment for her to catch sight of Hagrid approaching, his height a dead giveaway, walking side by side with Lord Voldemort himself. A puzzling thing in itself since no one noticed that he'd gone missing in the first place. But he's blubbering and howling for all to hear, fat tears cascading down his face, falling from his beatle-black eyes, so used is she to seeing them crinkled in kindness, and she wants to know _what has Voldemort_ _done_.

Hagrid's holding something, she notices. Or rather, _someone_, like a great rag doll in his arms. Having her curiosity satisfactorily piqued, she peers closer, but nonetheless retains a firm grip on her wand. She isn't about to give up without a fight. If she's to go down, then she'll go down fighting. Like Harry. _With Harry._

Then, she sees it, and suddenly everything goes cold. A tousled shock of black hair. The dusty blue jacket. The spectacles askew, pushed onto the bridge of his nose so carelessly. There's no doubt about it. She gasps. It's Harry.

From then on, everything flies by in a blur. She can't think, much less talk coherently. McGonagall's anguished cry strikes a cord from within, but she just can't register it. She isn't able to. Then, Ron and Ginny cry out, and she inexplicitly finds herself screaming along with them until her throat feels raw.

_"No!"_

_"NO!"_

_"Harry!"_

In that moment, she feels that everything is dead. Lost. She's lost. Without Harry, they never had a chance. Without Harry, she's _finished_. _He_ was the only reason she never hid away with her parents in Australia. Because Harry needed her, _here_. Now, he's dead, and her purpose along with him. They might as well be buried in the same coffin.

Voldemort laughs humorlessly at their anguished cries, their anguished faces, the way their wands fall, one by one. She turns away; unable to bear the sight of Harry—_her_ Harry—so still, so lifeless, so very dead.

The first pinprick of tears is the sharpest, and then nothing, as the tears cascade down her face, blazing trails of sorrow. Her heart howls its broken cry, but no one listens. Least of all, Harry.

Suddenly, staying alive doesn't mean as much anymore. She's always followed Harry in the past, and won't be deterred by somewhere she can't follow. Without him, her life is meaningless. Unimportant. She only ever felt like somebody when she was with him and Ron, the golden trio, finding ways to undertake the impossible.

But she's not without reason. She grips her wand tightly, feels it spark beneath her fingers and burn with an intensity that she is foreign to. She can feel its rage, its hatred, building, and she just _knows_. She longs with a desperate sort of fury to kill the man who took her Harry's life, kill him and make him suffer, just as he had done to Harry. In that moment, she wants to see the light leave his malicious eyes, hear him take his final, rattling breath. She wants to wish him a good time in Hell, forevermore. That she'll be seeing him there in a moment because, without Harry, what was the point?

She knows that it won't bring Harry back. Nor will it bring back the beatific moments they'd shared. But it just might make it all worth it.

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_Please, read and review to let me know what you think. I love random messages. :-)_


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